


Heart Spice

by Inell



Series: 2017 Prompt Challenge [34]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, But on the Road There, Chef Derek, Chef Stiles, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek Hale Has Regrets, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Flirting, Getting Back Together, Heartbroken Stiles Stilinski, Jealous Derek, Kissing, M/M, Minor Cora Hale/Lydia Martin, Moving Towards Forgiveness, Post-Break Up, Second Chances, Sparks Fly, They Broke Up a Decade Ago, not quite there yet, they meet again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9575273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: When Stiles was twenty-two, he had his heart broken when Derek chose his career over their relationship. A little over ten years later, they meet again on the set of a reality TV cooking competition. Derek wants a second chance, but Stiles isn't really in a forgiving mood.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [42hrb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/42hrb/gifts).



> @sterekseason requested Stiles/Derek: we were both lovers over a decade ago and now we meet again to battle it out on this cooking program. our rivalry is strong and just because the camera operator caught us making out in the pantry doesn’t mean i won’t defeat you with the power of truffle oil AU
> 
> For winning first prize in my Birthday Giveaway, Hannah gets two fics. This is the first one based on the prompt above. I hope you enjoy it! Fic #34 in my 2017 Prompt Challenge

“Glad you could make it, Stiles.” Cora nods at him, offering a friendly half-smile that’s the equivalent of a wide, toothy grin from anyone else. It’s a little surprising, and also a little suspicious because Cora usually isn’t smiley.

“I almost didn’t come,” Stiles admits. “Lydia forced me into the car and drove me here before I could, how did she put it, wimp out like a whiny dork.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “For the record, I wasn’t wimping out. I was just having second thoughts because of reasons.”

“Reasons? What kind of reasons?” Cora arches a brow, and it reminds him of Derek so much that it _hurts_. Fuck. It’s been nearly eleven years since Derek chose work over Stiles, so it shouldn’t feel so fresh every time he thinks about him, which is a lot more than he cares to admit.

“Being stuck filming all day, having to act some part for the cameras, coming across like an asshole for the millions of people who will watch this when it airs. I don’t know. Take your pick.” Stiles doesn’t mention that being in New York City with a Hale brings back some painful memories. Sure, it’s a different Hale, and he was never actually _in_ NYC with Derek, but New York City is what broke them up. So it’s still a little raw even after a decade.

“People will think you’re an asshole because you _are_ , but you somehow manage to make it part of your charm,” Cora points out. “And, no, that doesn’t mean that I think you’re charming. Everyone else, though? They seem to fall for it for some unknown reason. As for the rest, there isn’t any acting, Stiles. It’s a cooking competition. Despite rumors to the contrary, nothing is staged or scripted. Sure, you’ll be filming all day, but you get paid for appearing, and you get an even get bigger prize if you win.”

“ _When_ I win,” Stiles corrects. “There’s no way I got up at three in the morning then spent the next four and a half hours listening to Lydia’s Road Trip Mix, which I know she secretly calls Torture Stiles with Cheerful Pop, only to end up losing. Besides, you didn’t invite me on the show because you expect me to lose.”

Cora snorts. “No, I wouldn’t waste your time like that. I can find enough cannon fodder around the city if I just wanted someone easy to eliminate.” She makes a face. “Not that I’m suggesting that you’re actually good or anything.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be our secret that you think my Mac n Cheese is better than sex,” Stiles says with a wink.

“Damn it. I told Lydia that was our secret,” Cora mutters, shaking her head. “What kind of girlfriend runs off and tells the asshole you don’t like complimenting that you think he makes better Mac n Cheese than anyone else in the world?”

“The kind who loves her platonic soulmate and knows he still gets a little sensitive about the fact that his BFF is dating the sister of the guy who ripped apart his heart and stomped on it until there was nothing left but ground up heart spice without ever looking back.” Stiles shrugs when Cora blinks at his candidness. “What? I know you and Lydia are likely going to get married one day, so it’s stupid to keep ignoring the elephant in the room.”

Cora stares at him for a moment before her lips quirk. “Heart spice?”

“Shut up. It’s a thing, alright? A thing that happened to my heart over a decade ago because your brother and I had different priorities.” Stiles drags his fingers through his hair. “Anyway, I don’t want to ruin my mood my thinking about that selfish jerk. How does this filming thing work?”

“I’m sorry,” Cora blurts out before she’s suddenly giving him a hug. It’s a tight hug, one that she usually gives him on holidays or his birthday, and he awkwardly pats her back until she steps away. Immediately, she’s back to successful executive producer of a popular cooking program mode. “We have three timed segments that last thirty minutes, forty-five minutes, and sixty minutes each. Those are filmed in their entirety without a break. The only reshoots that happen are during the judging.”

“Right. I’ve seen the show before, obviously,” Stiles reminds her. He and Lydia DVR it and watch it in a marathon every other Monday when he takes an actual day off work. “Any inside tips on how to win this thing?”

“Cook well,” Cora deadpans before punching his shoulder. “Stop trying to use your connection to the producer to get ahead. That’s cheating.”

“It’s playing my advantages properly, not cheating,” he denies. “Can you at least tell me who the judges are today?”

“Nope. It’s a secret until they’re introduced.” Cora shrugs before she purses her lips. “I’d suggest avoiding cabbage if at all possible.”

“Huh.” Stiles nods. The anti-cabbage judge is Finstock, which means he must be on panel today. “Got it. No cabbage.”

“Basically, it’s exactly what you see on TV, Stiles. You get random ingredients and then half an hour to create the perfect bite. There are three rounds, someone going home each round, and the winner gets $100k.” Cora arches a brow. “Which a certain birdie told me that you plan to win so you can finally get stationary.”

“A certain birdie has a big mouth.” Stiles snorts. “But, yes, I’ve done extremely well with Surprise, but I could do more if I had a real kitchen. I love owning a food truck, but the pop ups I’ve done around DC have been pretty exciting, so I think I’m finally ready to maybe put down roots.”

“Danny ate at Surprise on Sixth last month, and he raved about the peanut butter and jelly waffles for weeks,” Cora confided. She wrinkles her nose. “It sounds like a very odd combination to me, but he loved it.”

“Holy shit. That’s awesome.” Stiles grins. “I didn’t realize I’d had a celebrity chef in the house or I’d have probably been pretty nervous. I’ll make the waffles for you next time you come down to stay the weekend. It’s peanut butter waffles stuffed with homemade strawberry jam with a peanut butter syrup. For you and Lydia, I’d make a really good chocolate syrup, I think.”

“Okay. That sounds pretty intriguing,” Cora admits. “I’ll be down next weekend, so you’d better get that skinny ass in the kitchen.”

“Bossy.” Stiles sticks his tongue out at her. “I was feeling breakfast that night I did the pop-up on Sixth, so he got lucky or he’d have never tasted them.”

“Well, just ready for him to fawn a little bit when he realizes you’re the owner and chef of Surprise.” Cora wags a finger at him. “And don’t even think about using that to your advantage because it’d just make you look cheap and creepy to play up to the host to try to win.”

“I would never!” Stiles attempts mock outrage that Cora’s not buying at all. But, seriously, he doesn’t play games like this when it’s competition. Danny Mahealani is pretty damn hot, though, and he’s not averse to possibly offering some homemade PB&J waffles for breakfast in bed some time. “He’s single, right?”

Cora narrows her eyes. “What happened to the heart spice of ten minutes ago?”

“Cora, the heart spice happened over ten years ago. I didn’t become a celibate monk when your brother ripped out my heart and threw it away. Relationships haven’t worked at all because, well…” Stiles trails off because he’s not pathetic enough to admit that he’s always comparing people he dates to what he had with Derek for those magical three years before it went to hell. And no one compares.

“Yeah, I get it.” Cora squeezes his bicep and actually looks sympathetic, which shows how much their relationships grown since she suddenly reappeared in his life via Lydia nearly three years ago. “Come on. We’ve got a show to film, so we’d better get moving or they’ll get started without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like they’d have another charming asshole from DC to fit my spot,” he teases, giving her a half-hug before following her out of her office area and onto the soundstage. Stiles has been on TV before doing some cooking segments for a local DC morning show because one of the hosts, Kira, loves his food truck and likes to give him publicity so he keeps working.

So he isn’t nervous about the filming at all. The competition aspect doesn’t even bother him because he’s confident that he’ll make amazing combinations of flavor and taste in each bite, which is the purpose of the show. Sure, he was teasing Cora about coming across as an asshole, but she’s kinda right. For some reason, as he’s aged, his brand of asshole has taken on a charm of its own that people don’t really find off-putting. High school Stiles wouldn’t ever believe it was possible.

Despite all that, there’s been a feeling of doubt in his gut since Cora and Lydia brought up the idea of him being a contestant on The Perfect Bite last month. It’s the whole New York City thing, probably, because he’s managed to somehow blame an entire city for Derek leaving him all those years ago. He and Lydia moved to DC seven years ago, and Stiles has never once driven up to NYC because it just makes him feel helpless and broken-hearted again. Like a scared twenty-two year old watching the man he thought was going to be his forever walk away without looking back.

The whole thing has just left him feeling slightly edgy and a little raw emotionally. He’ll be glad to get the episode filmed and then get back to DC so he can try putting the bad memories back in the locked file cabinet in his mind where they usually reside. Shaking his head, he starts focusing on what’s happening around him. There’s a good size crew running the show, and it’s a little surreal to actually be stepping onto the set for The Perfect Bite. He pulls out his phone and takes a selfie, flashing a cheesy grin into the camera, then he sends it to Lydia and Scott.

“Stiles, I really am sorry,” Cora whispers by his side, making him look away from the reply he’s typing to Scott’s ‘win it, bro’ to stare at her.

“What?” He narrows his eyes because she looks incredibly guilty all of a sudden. “Cora, why are you sorry?”

“Where the hell have you been, Cora? I got here twenty minutes ago.” A frustrated voice that he hasn’t heard in a decade (ten years, eight months, two weeks, and a handful of days, not that he’s counted because that would be sad and pathetic) interrupts them before Cora can reply.

Not that she needs to. Not when Stiles knows that voice and sees the guilt in Cora’s grimacing wince. She _should_ feel guilty because Stiles honestly isn’t sure how he’s going to handle this unpleasant surprise. His friendship with Cora has just taken a big step back, too, because she wouldn’t have done something like this to him if she really cared about him. Squaring his shoulders, he turns to face the voice from the past that’s haunted his dreams over the years.

Fuck.

Derek looks _good_. He’s got a beard now, peppered with grey despite only being in his early thirties, and his hair’s longer than it used to be, curling at the nape of his neck. He’s bulked up, too. Broader shoulders, muscles that are impossible to ignore with the dark purple t-shirt he’s wearing, and his eyes are still that mystical collection of green-blue-brown that Stiles used to tease him came from the galaxies above being sprinkled into his eyes.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice actually cracks when he says his name, and he looks as stunned as Stiles feels right now. Derek raises his hand, fingers twitching as he reaches for Stiles but then he drops it at his side. Like he’s remembered he gave up his touching privileges when he chose a job in Manhattan over their relationship.

“Derek.” Stiles is proud that his voice is as cold and firm as he wanted to project. The last time he’d seen Derek, they’d argued about Derek wanting to go to New York to work as a sous chef without considering the fact that Stiles already had a good job working with Marin Morrell as a line cook, a gig that he’d been lucky to get right after culinary school. They’d argued for a week, Derek too stubborn to listen, Stiles too stubborn to try _making_ him listen, and it had finally blown up that Thursday afternoon when Stiles had told Derek he needed to choose what he wanted most. Derek had packed his shit up and just left.

The worst part of it all was that Stiles would have gone with him, even if it meant losing the Morrell gig, because he’d loved Derek with every part of him. But Derek never once asked. It was always about him having this fantastic opportunity and that Stiles was _just_ a line cook and that he couldn’t hold him back like that and maybe it was professional jealousy and it had just deteriorated from there because they hadn’t been good at talking about emotional shit. Stiles had been hurt from the start when Derek didn’t just ask him to move with him, and so he’d lashed out, and Derek had obviously been more interested in his career than their relationship, which meant Stiles would have always come second best anyway.

“It’s been a long time,” Derek says quietly, staring at Stiles like he’s seeing a ghost. Stiles knows that he’s changed over the years, too. He’s grown into himself more than he had been at twenty-two. Thank God he shaved because he’d been sporting his Creepy Dealing Drugs to Kids™, as Lydia refers to it, unshaven for days look before they’d left the house that morning after a week of pop ups and two food truck festivals.

“Not long enough,” Stiles tells him, refusing to feel guilty at the flash of hurt in those fucking beautiful eyes that he can’t forget. Derek’s the one who left, not Stiles. He has no reason to feel guilty. Turning towards Cora, he grits his teeth because he’s trying to keep himself from lashing out, his usual reaction if cornered and overemotional. “I’ll find that make-up room you mentioned.”

“Too long,” Derek says, still staring at Stiles with a vulnerability on his face that Stiles doesn’t think he’s aware of because Derek never was the type to admit weakness. “Are you really going to try to ignore me, Stiles? It’s not going to work.”

“Stiles, please,” Cora whispers, reaching for his arm. He shakes her hand off, letting her know this is borderline unforgiveable. Setting him up this way is just wrong, and she’s lucky that Lydia kept the car keys or he’d already be gone. No, that’s not true. Stiles isn’t the one who runs. That’s Derek.

“Cora, not now.” Stiles can feel the tension in his jaw as he steps away from her. “I have a show to win.”

“You mean a show to lose.” Derek crosses his arms and Stiles totally does _not_ stare at the way the purple cotton clings to his biceps. The smirk on his lips also doesn’t do _anything_ to Stiles. Nope, not at all. “I always win. Remember?”

“I remember everything,” Stiles says tightly. “However, that’s the past. Besides, I usually just let you win anyway because you’d sulk when you lost. Now, I don’t give a fuck because you’re nothing to me. Not anymore.”

“That’s a lie,” Derek murmurs, staring at him intently. “You probably wish you didn’t, but you do. I’ll never be nothing to you, Stiles. Not after everything we shared.”

“Everything that you gave up, you mean? That you walked away from without even trying to fight for it?” Stiles steps closer to Derek, glad that they’re about the same height because it means he can snarl without concern. “You made your choice, Derek, and you never looked back. You don’t get to step into my life ten years later and act like none of that happened.”

“Guys, people are starting to stare,” Cora hisses, punching both their shoulders, which snaps them out of the glaring slash staring contest they’d been having.

“You should have worried about that before you manipulated us both here,” Stiles points out, dragging his fingers through his hair before he steps back. He’s gotten right up to Derek, too close for comfort when he’s having the conflicting desire to punch him, either with his fist or his mouth. Before the Hales can say anything, he walks away and manages to find someone who directs him to the make-up area.

Cora and Derek are having a heated conversation, all low whispers and hisses, but it’s obvious to anyone watching that it isn’t a sweet sibling bonding moment. Stiles tries to stare, but the chair he’s in has a perfect view of Derek’s ass, which looks better than he remembers. And he remembers that ass. He spent hours upon hours worshipping it, after all. The sex between them had always been amazing, so passionate and satisfying that he can’t help but compare every encounter to fucking Derek or getting fucked by Derek.

They’d been friends, too. Meeting the first day of class at the CIA in Food Safety, and hitting it off when Derek had snorted at Stiles’ snide comment about the teacher. They’d gotten through freshman year as friends, though there’d been a tension between them after a few months that they hadn’t explored until they’d been making a cake in their Baking and Pastry Skill Development class sophomore year, and Derek had wiped icing on Stiles nose.

There’d been a bit of an icing fight after that had escalated to making out against the refrigerator. Three years together, even talking serious commitment like buying a house (Derek had wanted a yard), kids (neither was particularly interested), dogs (they wanted six), and all that romantic shit the movies make seem so corny but actually is sort of thrilling. Well, until it ends, and you’re left with nothing but memories and an ache in your heart that never goes away and years of waking up from dreams and reaching for someone who hasn’t been there in so long that it’s ridiculous to still want them.

The next hour goes by quickly. The other contestants have arrived, and Stiles likes Erica really well, but Matt is a jerk. He’s got his make-up done for the cameras and bright lights, and the stylist tried to fix his hair, but it still looks kinda messy and disheveled to him. Maybe that’s a style? Derek keeps staring at him as they get processed through everything, so Stiles talks to Erica, flirting in a playful way that she’s not taking seriously. They bond over their mutual love of comic books, and he totally plans to get her number after the show because he thinks they’d make great friends.

“Alright, everyone. Time to start.” The director is having people lead them to their stations, and Stiles isn’t too happy to realize that Derek’s working on his right. Erica is beside Derek then Matt is on the other end. “We’ll begin with introductions then cut so we can set up for the judges.”

“That’s my cue.” Danny Mahealani is just as good-looking in person as he is on television, and Stiles can’t help checking him out. Danny notices and winks at him. Derek makes a growling sound of annoyance, and Stiles glances at him to find him glaring at Danny.

The cameras start rolling, and Danny does introductions. He talks to Matt about the restaurant in Boston where he’s sous chef, and he talks to Erica about being executive chef at a popular place in Philadelphia. When he gets to Derek, he tries flirting a bit, but Derek isn’t into it at all. Instead, he talks somewhat curtly about his executive chef gig in Midtown, which actually surprises Stiles because Derek always planned to open his own place because he didn’t want to work for someone else all his life.

Danny reaches him, and Stiles can’t help being flattered at the way Danny looks at him when he realizes Stiles owns Surprise. “I was at one of your pop ups several weeks ago,” Danny admits, moving his finger over the top of Stiles’ hand. “The PB&J waffles were heavenly. One of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“That’s definitely a great compliment. Thanks, dude,” Stiles says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making an inappropriate for television comment about the various other things he’d be happy for Danny to put in his mouth.

“I can’t wait to try something else from you,” Danny says, eyes twinkling in a way that makes Stiles think Danny’s fully aware of what he wanted to actually say. The sound of something clanging against the floor makes Stiles turn his head, arching a brow when he sees Derek standing there with a pot by his foot.

“Sorry,” Derek says in a tone that is anything but apologetic. “I knocked it off the counter.”

“That’s alright, man. It’s what editing is for.” Danny winks at Stiles before he walks to the front. “Cameras ready?”

“In five. Four. Three. Two.” The cameraman holds up his fingers as he counts, not saying the one as the red light comes on.

“We’ve just met our contestants, so now it’s time to introduce the judges for this episode of The Perfect Bite.” Danny smiles. “We have with us tonight, a man that needs no introduction. Chris Argent, from the world-famous Fleur de Lis.” Chris Argent steps out and is definitely a ruggedly handsome guy. Seeing Derek against has obviously affected Stiles’ hormones because he isn’t usually this horny. “We also have two time James Beard award winner for Outstanding Chef, Bobby Finstock.” Bobby Finstock is just as crazy hyper seeming in person as he is on TV. “And we have popular pastry chef, Satomi Ito, for her first time on the judging panel.”

Stiles stands quietly while Danny and the judges chatter for the camera. Well, he shifts his weight from foot to foot and taps his fingers lightly on the stainless steel counter top of the work station he’s been assigned. The tapping continues until a hand suddenly drops on top of his fingers, making him look up to find Derek standing closer, watching the judges intently even as his lip twitches slightly. It’s such a familiar moment that it takes Stiles back in time to those days at the Greystone, where standing and listening to instructors always left him a little bouncy and frantic.

It’s good memories, like a warm hug on a cold night, but then he remembers it’s not like that anymore. Derek’s not his, not the calm in the storm of Stiles’ rather frantic and creative mind. He can’t seek tranquility from Derek when his mind is racing and he’s wanting to move. Not now. With that in mind, he pulls his hand out from under Derek’s, curling his fingers into his palm then stuffing his fist into the pocket of his chef’s coat.

The first round begins.

They’re given skirt steak for this round. Thirty minutes to make the perfect bite with skirt steak. Stiles immediately starts thinking about ideas, focusing on putting out a killer dish that totally beats Derek’s. With only thirty minutes, he knows it’ll take fifteen to twenty minutes to grill the steak properly, so he starts making a rub immediately. He’s got an idea, but it’s going to be cutting it close with time. The rub should add enough flavor to the meat that it balances the crunch he’s planning. He notices Erica working on a take on a Philly cheesesteak, while Matt’s got some Thai flavors on his counter. Derek’s doing a Mexican twist, making chimichurri sauce, it looks like.

Stiles mixes up chili powder, paprika, sea salt, some black pepper, and then throws in some of the delicious smelling ground coffee he found in the pantry. Once it’s all mixed, he puts the rub all over the steak and sets it to the side. He glances at the clock and does the calculations, realizing he can let it rest for about twelve minutes safely. It’s not as long as he’d like, but it should be long enough. While the steak is resting, he starts slicing and dicing a mango, an onion, a bell pepper, a jalapeno pepper, and some cilantro leaves. He combines all of it in a bowl with a bit of black pepper and some lime juice.

“You ready to lose, Stilinski?” Derek disturbs his concentration, and he looks up with a frown to see Derek smirking at him, looking not at all bothered to be cooking on a schedule.

“Not planning to, Hale.” Stiles looks at the clock. “Shit.” He grabs his steaks and checks the grill that he’d turned on earlier. It’s hot, so he’s good to go. He puts the steaks on, listening to them sizzle. “Hope you’re ready to say goodbye when you get sent home.”

“Won’t be happening,” Derek says confidently, moving around the kitchen with as much grace as he used to, maybe even more. It’s like poetry in motion, as cliché as that sounds, and Stiles always feels so clumsy cooking beside him.

“Why don’t you two stop flirting and make your food?” Matt asks, tone annoyed and stressed.

“Why don’t you try making something people will actually eat?” Erica suggests, tossing Stiles a wink. “Batman can flirt with anyone he wants to.”

“Thanks, Catwoman.” Stiles blows her a kiss. “But there’s no flirting. Just a deep desire to beat his ass.”

“I remember those nights,” Derek mutters, too low for the microphone to pick up. Hopefully. Stiles hears it, though, and he feels warmth spreading across his cheeks as he turns his meat to grill the other side. He remembers those nights, too. Nights when they’d play and he’d spank Derek until there was begging followed by really great sex.

They’re down to seven minutes, and Stiles takes his steak off the grill so it has time to rest. Since this is about one perfect bite, he doesn’t bother making any sides. Instead, he tastes his mango salsa and moans in appreciation, liking the burst of flavors on his tongue. This isn’t a dish he’d made at Surprise, mostly because he tends to create his menu every morning, hence the appropriate name for his food truck, but it’s going to be a great bite.

Thirty minutes passes quickly. All too soon, they’re presenting their bites and being judged. Cora was right. They rolled straight through during the cooking, but there are a lot of stops during judging. Satomi spits Matt’s bite out, which means they have to stop and re-film because the show isn’t that mean to the contestants. It’s obvious from the reactions that Matt’s going home first round unless someone else really fucked up.

They didn’t.

Erica, Derek, and Stiles all get a lot of compliments for their choices, along with some criticism to make the audience unsure who won that round. Stiles is confident that he won, though, because Chris Argent actually makes a sex moan when he takes the bite of steak with mango salsa. That right there is good enough TV to earn Stiles the win, in his opinion.

Matt gets sent home, and no one is sad to see him go.

The second round centers on lamb. Lamb is actually something he’s used quite often at Surprise because there’s a lot of people in DC who like some of the flavor combinations he uses with that protein. For the show, he decides to do a Chili-Cumin lamb meatball, because he can roll them into bite size form. He’ll use some cucumbers and yogurt, too, to add the fresh flavor he wants. It’s a combination he’s used before, so he knows it’s good, but he hopes it’s good enough to win the round.

In the pantry, he and Derek have a mini-standoff by the spices because Stiles is grabbing the smoked paprika, cumin seeds, coriander, and fennel seeds. He manages to grab the coriander before Derek, and he can’t help smirking and doing a little booty shake of triumph. “Got to be faster, big guy,” he says, forgetting for a moment that he’s mad at Derek and they aren’t together anymore.

“I could just take it from you,” Derek points out.

“You might be more muscular, but so am I.” Stiles arches a brow. “I might not be able to bench press a car, but I can hold my own.”

Derek’s gaze moves over him in a way that’s more appropriate for a meat market, the nightclub looking for someone to go home with kind, than the pantry of a TV show. “I bet you can,” Derek drawls, leaning in and pinning Stiles against the spices. “I’d like to find out.”

Stiles clears his throat and ducks beneath Derek’s arm. “Too late for that,” he reminds him, scowling at the fresh veggies as he grabs a cucumber, a lemon, an onion, and then has to hurry back to his station so he can make a second trip. This idea has a hell of a lot more ingredients than the mango salsa, and he thinks the time is okay, but he can’t risk running behind.

As they begin cooking, Erica playfully flirts with Stiles, knowing fully well that it’ll likely mean more screen time when the final edit is done. Stiles flirts back, but he slips into rivalry mode with Derek anytime Derek mouths off about beating him. The forty-five minutes passes even more quickly than the thirty minutes, somehow, and soon they’re giving their second bites to the judges.

They all get good reviews, and Stiles is actually a little nervous. He doesn’t think he’s going yet, not with the Satomi talked about the flavor of his meatball, but he’s actually worried that Derek might be sent home. He shouldn’t care, but there’s a part of him that wants to face-off and beat him in the end. Derek is tapping his fingers against his thigh, a nervous gesture that he obviously hasn’t outgrown, which means he’s not feeling completely confident, either.

In the end, Erica is sent home.

Stiles and Derek face each other while Danny talks about the obvious tension in the kitchen, not knowing the half of it. When they’re asked who plans to win, they both answer, which he’s always thought was so cliché but it’s how the moment plays out, so now he understands. No more making fun of contestants at home for being so cocky and sure because you’ve got to be or it’ll all unravel. When they get ready to pull the top off the tray holding the primary ingredient for round three, he just starts repeating to himself ‘no fish, no fish, no fish’ because Derek is fucking amazing with fish and anything that comes out of the sea.

It’s bacon.

“Hot damn,” Stiles blurts out, grinning sheepishly when Danny lets out a laugh nearby. “I love bacon.”

“Well, you’ve got one hour to make your perfect bite with it,” Danny says, winking when the camera moves so it’s not caught on film. “Get cooking, boys.”

Stiles runs to the pantry because he knows exactly what he wants to make. It’s something he’s made for his friends but never actually done at Surprise. He thinks it’s going to be a perfect bite of salty and sweet, plus few people on this show ever attempt dessert so he’ll at least get some attention for choose that path. He grabs the flour, potato starch, and baking powder, piling them together before looking for vanilla pudding mix.

“Fuck, they’d better have it,” he mutters, ignoring the stupid camera following him around.

“Looking for this?” Derek asks, waving a box at him.

“Gimme,” Stiles demands, making grabby hands.

“Come take it,” Derek challenges, looking at Stiles’ mouth long enough that the tips of his ears turn red. Fucking bastard with his adorable blushy ears and the flash of teeth that Stiles sees when Derek’s lips part.

“I hate you,” he hisses, storming towards Derek and snatching the vanilla pudding mix.

“I deserve that,” Derek admits, holding on to the box tightly. “I miss you, Stiles. Have missed you for years.”

“Don’t.” Stiles swallows and bites his lip. “Not now. It isn’t the right time or place.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got,” Derek says, sounding a little desperate. “Once this is done, you’ll get out of here, and I won’t have another chance. I was wrong, Stiles. I loved you so much, but I was too caught up in my need to prove myself to my parents that I lost sight of _us_. It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done: letting you go like that.”

“This is pretty stupid, too,” Stiles points out, staring into Derek’s eyes. “We’re supposed to be cooking the final round to win $100k. Talking about the past is just going to throw us both off, and I plan to win.”

“I don’t care about the money. I only came on the show because Cora won a bet,” Derek mutters, tugging on the pudding box slightly. “Seeing you again…I’ve been dealing with a lot of regrets lately, got too drunk and told Cora what a miserable bastard I was and how I broke my own heart because I was selfish and competitive.”

“And then she invited me to be a guest on the show when she knew you’d be here, because she’s a meddling pain in the ass,” Stiles finishes, sighing as he glances at the camera pointed right at his face. “We’re not alone, Derek. The camera guy is right there.”

“Isaac,” the camera guy says, nodding the camera like he’s saying hello. “This is good shit. I might get promoted from this, so thanks in advance.”

“I don’t care about the camera guy.” Derek lets go of the box of pudding, reaching out to pull Stiles against him. “Is this okay?”

“No,” Stiles whispers, looking at Derek’s mouth then into his eyes. “It’s not okay. It’s been more than ten years, Derek. You don’t get to come back into my life and say you miss me and wish you hadn’t been a jerk back then and just expect me to forgive you for breaking my heart.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me that easily, Stiles. I’m asking if you think there’s a chance, even a small one, you could ever forgive me one day.” Derek moves his fingers around Stiles’ wrist, his thumb rubbing against the back of his knuckles.

“No.” Stiles bites his lip before sighing. “That’s a lie, damn it.I _could_ forgive you, Derek. Not now, but maybe one day.”

Derek’s smile is breathtaking, and Stiles has to close his eyes because he hasn’t seen that smile in years, never thought he’d see it again, and it’s even more beautiful than his memories led him to believe. “That’s all I want, Stiles. The chance to prove myself to you.” He entwines his fingers with Stiles’ and squeezes. “I think about you all the time, but I’ve been too damn scared to try reaching out. Cora refuses to tell me anything about you, says I have to ask you if I want to know, and it drives me crazy knowing she’s around you when I couldn’t be because I was such an ass.”

"You were worse than an ass, Derek. I mean it when I say that I can't forgive you today. It's going to take time for me to be able to trust you again. You broke my heart, you know?" Stiles wishes it was as easy as just Derek saying sorry and him saying no problem, but that isn't real life.

"I know," Derek says softly. "I didn't handle any of it the right way, and I know I made mistakes. I just can't walk out of this studio without telling you that I'd like to try again. Even if we just stay friends, I can accept that. But I'm going to try to prove to you that I've changed and I can be what you need in your life."

Instead of replying, Stiles leans in and kisses Derek. It’s a kiss nearly eleven years in the making, full of anger, passion, and sadness as he channels all of his emotions about Derek into it. Somewhere in the middle, he drops the pudding mix, replacing it with Derek’s thick hair, and there’s a hand on his ass pulling him closer, beard scratching against his face, and the kiss has become less angry emotions and more passionate desire until a loud sound breaks them apart.

Stiles is panting, lips swollen, hair messier than before, eyes wide as he stares at where Isaac has hit the camera against a shelf in the pantry and has knocked a row of spices onto the floor. He looks at Derek, seeing an awestruck and horny look on his face that makes him smile as he reaches down to pick up the vanilla pudding. Straightening up, he says, “I’m going to win, then we’re going to go somewhere to talk. Got it?”

“Got it.” Derek rubs his hand over his jaw, scratching his beard. “Except I’m going to win, not you.”

“We’ll see about that, Hale.” Stiles gets the rest of his ingredients and leaves the pantry with a focused determination that isn’t going to let him down. No, he’s going to bake his maple French toast and bacon cupcakes for the judges, and he’s going to win because they’re delicious. And then he and Derek have a lot of talking to do. The kiss in the pantry might have escalated quickly, but it just proves the physical attraction and chemistry is still there.

It takes more than that for a successful relationship, though, and he’s changed a lot during the last decade. He’s thirty-three now, not a naïve twenty-two year old who believes in happily ever after. He’s got a successful food truck in a competitive market, and a killer reputation for his pop ups. He isn’t about to rush into anything just because it’s his first love, just because he’s thought about Derek throughout the years, just because he still feels that same contentment in his gut when he and Derek are together that he felt back when they were young and in love.

They both made mistakes back then, even if Stiles firmly believes that like eighty-five percent of the fault is Derek’s. But it’s not like he spoke up and offered to move. Not when he was waiting for Derek to ask him instead. It’s not like he agreed that it was a great opportunity for Derek without thinking about losing his own opportunity. Neither of them had been able to put _we_ ahead of _I_ , which is why they broke up. Now, they’re older, wiser, and they’ve had a decade apart to realize what their priorities are.

Stiles looks over to see Derek smiling slightly as he mixes up dough. His eyes narrow as he places the ingredients and realizes Derek’s making the bacon chocolate chip cookies that he’d always make for Stiles after a long night at Emissary, Morrell’s restaurant. He’d call him out for not playing fair, but it’d be pretty hypocritical since he’s making the cupcakes he used to make for Derek and feed him in bed on lazy mornings when neither of them had to work or even get dressed.

There’s no way of knowing which dessert the judges will like the most, both a perfect combination of salty and sweet. He’s totally going to win, since they’ve liked both his rounds slightly more than Derek’s, but he’s not getting overly confident about it because that’s always the downfall of the contestants. The money would be great, but bragging rights is his true goal. And, really, as cliché and stupid as it sounds, and he’d never actually _say it_ , but he kinda thinks that maybe they’re both winners today.

Second chances don’t come around all the time, after all, but Stiles isn't a lovesick fool anymore. He's older, wiser, and a lot more cynical about love after spending so many years with his heart ground to powder after Derek left. Despite the fact that he’s never really fallen out of love with Derek (hated him for leaving and hurting him, sure, but that didn’t mean he stopped loving him), he isn't going to risk his heart again just because Derek's suddenly showing remorse.

Derek's going to have earn his forgiveness and not just by relying on the fact that the physical attraction between them is still burning so bright. The thing is, Stiles is willing to give him the opportunity to try, and Derek knows him well enough to realize that it’s an olive branch of sorts. Derek probably also realizes that Stiles isn’t planning to make it easy and painless for him, but if he’s serious about wanting Stiles back in his life, he’s going to be ready to fight for what he wants this time. And, really, that’s all Stiles has ever wanted from him.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


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